


Broken knuckles and a bit of perspective

by Halosydne



Series: Clint Barton One Shots [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War (Marvel), Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Everyone Needs A Hug, Guilt, One Shot, Prison, Self-Reflection, So much angst, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Wanda in a straitjacket, punching walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:17:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halosydne/pseuds/Halosydne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint punched the wall of his cell, knuckles glancing off the cold, hard concrete as his skin split, and a sharp, searing pain travelled up his arm. His knuckles throbbed.</p><p>It didn't help.</p><p>***</p><p>"The Futurist, gentlemen." He called out, "The Futurist is here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken knuckles and a bit of perspective

Clint punched the wall of his cell, knuckles glancing off the cold, hard concrete as his skin split, and a sharp, searing pain travelled up his arm. His knuckles throbbed.

It didn't help.

Clint walked over to the cot and sunk down onto it, staring at the neat spots of blood in a line on the opposite wall from where he had punched it, as he cradled his hand. He wanted to scream, yell, shout, anything. He didn't though, because that would do absolutely fucking nothing. There was no one that could hear. That, and it might upset Wanda even more, who hadn't spoken a word - or even moved from where she had slumped against the wall - since they'd forced her into that goddamn straitjacket.

Clint had been in prison before, of course he had. The occasional drunk brawl that led to a night in a cell, for example. A couple of times he had been apprehended by local authorities after making a kill on a mission, though he was always released a few hours later - much to the officers annoyance of course. Hell, one time, he'd even gone undercover in a prison.

But this... this was nothing like those times. Because this time, he actually was a criminal. A fucking criminal. He'd broken the law, a law he'd never agreed to in the first place, so they locked him up in the deepest, darkest supermax they could think of. Of course, it had to be the fucking Raft - because a normal prison wasn't enough of a hell-hole to toss the likes of them into. They had to be buried so deep, so far under the sea, that the whole world would forget about them. They had to be in the same godforsaken prison that Clint himself had locked people up in - the kind of people that you couldn't just shoot between the eyes, that had to be escorted to the bowels of hell personally, where you could keep an eye on them. Because, that's what's this place was. Hell.

Clint supposed he was one of those people now. The Avengers, what they'd done together, what they'd fought for, that didn't count for shit now. Clint was just another bad guy that the politicians thought was dangerous enough to shove down here, and he knew that the people shoved down here never saw the light of day again.

And Stark... Well, wasn't that just the icing on the cake. A man he'd fought alongside, hell, he'd even started to respect him, the insufferable bastard. And now... This. He was walking around in the outside world, kissing the shoes of the senators while thanking them oh-so-much for protecting people. Protecting people, by incarcerating their protectors, because how was that for logic.

Oh, Stark claimed he stood on the moral high ground. Putting those Sokovia Accords on a fucking pedestal, "We need to limit ourselves," He said "We need to be the better men," he said, when it was really all about him. One kid, is all it took to drive him to this. He locked up Wanda, making her - a girl, still practically a kid - fear herself, when all she'd done was try and do the right thing. That bomb would have gone off, either on the ground, killing 40 or 50, or in the sky, next to an office block, killing less than 20. And now, he'd had her locked up again - this time in a less fancy cage that his penthouse. A name, and a story put to the dead body of some random kid and suddenly we're the bad guys. Suddenly, we can no longer choose our own battles. Stark talked about perspective, but it was him that didn't have a goddamn perspective. Stark didn't know what it meant to kill, not really. Sure, he'd shot at people, and yeah, some of those people had died.

He'd never been handed a file with a picture and a name and a life story and been told to end that life, because the world would be better off without that person. Clint had. And hell, maybe he deserved to go to prison for that, but he sure as hell didn't for fighting to keep the Avengers' free will. Because if they signed those accords, then they wouldn't be able to save people just like that kid that died.

Because, if they signed those accords, they would be just like that nuke sent to destroy New York.

People died, because people die everyday, because no matter how many you do save, you can't save them all. If you can't handle that, then maybe you're in the wrong line of work. But no, Stark felt guilty, so they all had to pay the price.

The door to the room adjacent to their cells opened, and Clint looked up at who entered... well, He supposed, think of the devil and he shall appear. He could feel the hysteria bubbling up in his chest as he slowly began to clap.

"The Futurist, gentlemen." He called out, "The Futurist is here."

His words resonated unsettlingly in the small space.

**Author's Note:**

> First AO3 post, ever. Wow.
> 
> Feedback sustains me, so please let know how that was!
> 
> Find me on Twitter @GoldenMarksman


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